The Social Network: the kink meme!

It's Complicated: But sexy!

Okay, I'm a little new at this so sorry if I mess this up first go. Because it's been 5 months since the last round even though we haven't been busy. I figured I might as well earn my keep and try to get this place alive again...

IMPORTANT: please DO NOT post prompts about any non-public people as part of a prompt. for example: randi zuckerberg is fine as she is a public figure both on the internet and on facebook itself. priscilla chan is NOT as she is not a public figure.

if you're in doubt, please message the mod or leave a comment in the discussion post.

♥ post requests and responses in the comments to this post. ♥ be respectful. ♥ both a pairing/character AND a prompt/kink must be posted. ♥ one pairing/prompt per comment please. ♥ you are encouraged to try and write a prompt for every request you make. ♥ we are slash, femslash, het, three-and-moresomes etc. friendly. (we are even incest friendly what with some of our characters being twins and all...) ♥ no pairing bashing, OK? no need to wank over ships. ♥ long and short fics welcome. multiple responses encouraged! ♥ please try to refrain from saying 'seconded!' as much as possible. ♥ on RPF: Please disclaim that it is RPF, a work of fiction and in no way related to the actual actors/persons/etc. (i wouldn't even try and discourage RPF from this meme ;)) ♥ WARN FOR COMMON TRIGGERS, PLEASE

♥ please don't embed. link to images/videos. ♥ no locked material. this includes communities, even if membership is open. ♥ fills can be posted anonymously or not. ♥ fills can be anything: fic, art, vid, fanmix, podfic, etc. ♥ all prompts are open to fills at all times, even if they have been filled in the past or are being currently filled by someone else. multiple fills are positively encouraged; if something appeals to you then do not be put off creating a new fill by the existence of a prior one. NEW: ♥ PLEASE comment with the first of your fill to the PROMPT and then all future updates as a comment to the FIRST PART of the fill. this makes it easier for both the WIP spreadhseet and for archiving stuff on delicious. it also helps people who are trying to catch up on updates and don't have to look through every fill on the prompt (should it have more than one). thank you.

Hi, right now everyone is working on some changes so hold on new things are coming. In an effort to kick this place back into action, we're doing round 9. In a few days, we'll be setting up a fills post that hopefully will work directly for archiving and an overflow post. Also we'll be doing a friending meme at tsn_km_gather so be looking out for that. I know some of the other mods have plans of their own which will be coming soon.

If you have any questions or ideas that I can help you with, feel free to PM me. I'll be around.

i know you guys are enjoying this meme and i appreciate that but please can you put the SUBJECT HEADER on your prompt. you would REALLY be helping me out if you could do that. it just saves time for me when i'm trying to tag everything in delicious.

NEW RULE;

PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE 'FILL' RULES. THERE HAS BEEN A CHANGE. thank you.

AND PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT repost prompts from parts three, four, five, six, seven, or eight. the delicious is around for people to find prompts they may not have already seen. We know there's been some issues but we're working on it with pinboard. No duplicates from this round either. THANK YOU.

girl!mark ot4. maybe w/ eduardo/mark

someone please fucking write me something like girl!mark experiencing the most fucking painful cramp in the entire fucking world because i feel like my uterus is trying to fucking punch me in the face.

murder

i don't even. uh. here this is. not very ot4-ish but yes! this is clearly the way to get rid of crampy bothers, yes? yes.

Mark does not have time for anyone else's shit today.

She's on her period - and, all right, usually she can take a few pills and block it out, code through it, but right now she's curled up on her side, clutching her fucking stomach, because it hurts, all right, it feels like a fucking freight train’s decided to take up its residence in her uterus.

She is going to kill everyone that makes her angry today. It’s the only logical thing to do. She’s going to kill them all and then they’ll leave her the fuck alone and yes, then she’ll feel at least a little bit better because she won’t have people shouting in her fucking ear.

She hears the door crack open and lets out a soft groan, shaking her head, and her hands clutch at her stomach further, trying to push it away so she can sit up, at least.

She feels the bed dip and Wardo’s hand in her hair (she knows it’s his – he’s the only one gentle enough to have it not hurt). “Mark? Honey, are you okay?”

He sounds worried, and she’d tell him to fuck off, right now, get out of her room and get her some (more) Midol if it weren’t for the worry.

She sits up, a bit, looking at him. “I’m fine.” She’s lying, but she really doesn’t want to talk about her uterus with Wardo, of all people.

He shakes his head, sitting closer to her. “No, you aren’t.”

She swallows. “I – you’re right. Can we drop it?”

He frowns down at her, trailing his fingers through her hair, and she lets out a soft sigh, closing her eyes. “Mark? What’s wrong?”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Cramps.”

His fingers freeze in her hair. “Oh.”

She nods.

He leaves, kissing her on the forehead, and then he’s gone.

She closes her eyes again, trying to wrap herself up into an even tinier ball, feeling as though her fucking insides are twisting on each other.

She’s no idea where her fucking heating pad is – she’s sure it’s somewhere, here, but she can’t fucking find it and that doesn’t really help now, does it?

Mark lets out another groan, pressing her face down into the pillow, and misses Wardo’s hand in her hair.

She hears footsteps outside of the room and lifts her head up.

“Look, I know it’s a rare sight, me out of my room,” she starts, and then Dustin’s sitting next to her, smiling, and his hand is doing what Wardo’s was, pressing into her hair.

She feels the bed dip twice more. Chris is near her feet, a hand resting on her ankle, and Wardo on her other side, and he moves his hands so he’s giving her a back massage, soft, light.

Mark lets out a sigh, nodding, and Wardo’s touch gets firmer, more sure.

“You okay?” Dustin asks, hand still in her hair, petting her by this point. Mark’s eyes slide shut – the combination of their hands is too much for her cramps.

“Wait,” and Chris leaves.

Mark frowns, looking up at him.

He comes back in with a heating pad. “You left this out there after a coding binge. That time you didn’t leave the couch for two days? Yeah.”

Mark grabs for it, and he plugs it in, pressing it against her lower stomach. “Feel okay?” he whispers.

Mark nods, and feels Dustin and Chris shift, until they’re next to each other, Mark’s head now in Dustin’s lap, Chris next to her stomach.

She feels silly, suddenly – she’s sitting here with her three best friends, and they’re – fuck - comforting her and her cramps.

The drive over to the new campuses in Menlo Park is frankly too short for Eduardo to properly prepare himself. He pulls his BMW into his unofficial designated spot next to Mark's old Camry and then takes a deep breath. Inhaling through his nose, expanding his stomach and then his chest cavity, before exhaling slowly out through his mouth.

The sun is still holding onto the horizon but the parking lot is still jam packed.

And then another breath. And another.

"WARDO!"

Eduardo can feel his body try its freaking best to jump out its own skin as Dustin's face suddenly appears, plastered against the driver side window, all bug-eyed and pasty.

"Jesus fucking—" Eduardo tries to exclaim but he cut off as Dustin jerks open the door and proceeds to pulls Eduardo out of his seat by his elbow.

"Who cried this time? Because if it was that guy from Goldman…because he was really asking for—" Eduardo tries to ask as Thomas, head of security—a great hulking ex-Army Ranger—gives them a small wave as he holds open the glass doors. "Hey, Mr. Saverin."

"Good Eve—" Eduardo is interrupted by a second pair of hands. Harry, Mark's usually stoic assistant, tight mouthed and grim, says as he pulls Eduardo towards the elevators, "She did, Mr. Saverin."

fill: the beatings will continue until morale improves, 1b/3

The main floor where Mark's iron fist in velvet glove reign uncontested is noticeably and unnaturally quiet. No RipStiks, no loud games of chess, no four person pingpong; even the elaborately daisy-chained Xboxes are silent.

Eduardo strides into the room and he can feel all eyes turn on him, the air pregnant with expectation. Harry, still beside him and furiously whispering to Eduardo the events of the day, shoots a single glare that scares the entire floor into submission; eyes are dropped and a newfound zeal for their respective screens are found. Eduardo touches Harry's arm in both thanks and a wordless command for the other man to stay back.

Dustin is still in the lobby with a call he just had to take.

Mark sits alone near the center, facing the far wall, drawn oddly into herself, headphones firmly on, and typing furiously on her MacBook. Her thin fingers slow to a stop as Eduardo walks up to her, his reflection betraying him. He sits down next to her and pulls off her headphones, carefully untangling the coiled cord from her hair. Mark keeps her face stubbornly turned away but Eduardo can = see the redness in her eyes and nose.

In a moment of childish weakness, Eduardo wishes Sean was here. He really wants to punch someone in the face.

"Hey," Eduardo says gently, as he tucks a stray lock behind her ear.

"If you're going to start smashing things, then I would suggest you start with Dustin's shit," Mark says snidely. Eduardo can't help but smile; sarcasm and spite means embarrassment, not distress. He lets out a small quite sigh of relief as he quickly catches Mark's hand, tangling their fingers together, "I'll keep that under consideration."

Mark's eyes narrow as Eduardo's smile widens despite his growing concern over the strange way she is holding herself in her chair. She hates being guilt-tripped but she tolerates it from Eduardo since he only resorts to it sparingly. Her fingers tighten around his before she finally admits, with a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, "The meeting with the Money ran long and extra dickish. And then the Midol stopped working."

"Goldman?" Eduardo asks. Mark shakes her head, "Morgan Stanley."

Eduardo nods, sagely, "I see."

"Exactly, it was nothing," Mark repeats, looking over Eduardo's shoulder, eyes narrowed dangerously as she searched for a certain cowardly Jew. Eduardo does not need to look to know that right now everyone is cowering behind giant computer displays, cursing the open floor plan. "I can't believe Dustin called you."

fill: the beatings will continue until moral improves, 1b/3

Mark smirks and Eduardo wants nothing more than to pull Mark into his arms and kiss her laughing mouth until they are both breathless, no-PDAs-at-Facebook-decree be damned, but he'll settle for getting her out of the office.

Harry, like a freaky super-efficient mind-reading ninja, suddenly pops up next to Mark and helpfully interjects, "Moskovitz already went home. I believe he said something about Del Taco."

The unspoken, maybe you should too, floats in the air. Mark exaggeratedly sighs and looks longingly at her MacBook. Eduardo rolls his eyes, secure in the knowledge that he can still beat out whatever iCrap Steve can throw at Mark, and says, "Come on, if we go now, we can still catch who gets auf wiedersehened."

Mark turn to scowl darkly at Eduardo—her addiction to Tim Gunn will never not be funny especially since Eduardo can claim credit—and opens her mouth to argue but Eduardo cuts her off with a quick kiss, "I'll leave first and drop by Bombay Palace. You follow in ten, okay?"

"Basil Thai," Mark corrects, mostly just to be contrary. Eduardo gets up and concedes with an easy smile, "Sure."

"And ice cream. Not the soy crap."

"Of course."

"And cheetos."

"Okay," Eduardo nods before he reminds her with his own eyebrow dance, "Ten minutes. Minutes, not hours."

Mark already turned back to her Precious, spares him a small dismissive wave, "Yeah, yeah."

Eduardo trades a look over Mark's head with Harry. Harry rolls his eyes and nods, allowing Eduardo to leave secure in the knowledge Mark will be bundled out of the building when the ten minutes are up.

fill: the beatings will continue until morale improves, 2a/3

The street lamps are glowing a deep orange by the time Eduardo finally pulls up to their gated driveway. When the gates roll opened, Eduardo finds his prime spot by the front door occupied by a gleaming silver Maserati Spyder.

"Fuck," Eduardo says to himself. He does not have the strength of will to deal with a moody Mark and Sean Parker, but he also cannot deal with Mark and Sean, alone, in their house. Eduardo tolerates Sean like one tolerates a particularly stubborn raccoon; he no longer wants to actively run Sean over with a eighteen wheeler, but he's not going to spare any tears when Sean goes it turned into roadkill, eventually.

Eduardo has faith in the universe, just as he knows the universe has a sick twisted sense of humor. He sighs as he double parks, turn off the engine, and gets out of the car to go collect dinner.

The front door opens and—"Dustin, why are you wearing Mark's bra?"

Dustin walks out onto the driveway in his bare feet—Eduardo bites his tongue to stop the instinct to scold—wearing a blue lacy bra, pants (thank God), and a great big scowl. "It was this or I close my eyes and count to ten. And I like my nipples where they are. And my balls."

"Why—never mind, I don't want to know," Eduardo says with a shake of his head. Something like hope blossoms in his chest and Eduardo asks as he opens the trunk, "Is that your car?"

Dustin lights up, much in the same way old Jewish ladies light up on the subject of their kaddishels, "Yup! Well actually, it's a lease because—oooh cheetos!"

Dustin grabs the garish orange bag out of the reusable shopping bag and opens it with a sure hand, digging in before Eduardo can open his mouth to protest. Eduardo shakes his head and takes out the shopping and the takeout by himself before closing the trunk door. Together they up the steps into lit house; Eduardo with his arms full and Dustin munching away on the cheetos.

"Don't worry, I fed Dustin already," Chris says with a smile as he appears in the doorway holding a steam mug. "Hey man, how are you?"

Eduardo shakes his head even as he rushes to put down the food so he can give Chris a hug. "Hey yourself. What are you doing here? Not that I—"

Chris laughs as he hugs Eduardo back, careful not to jostle the mug. "No, I got what you mean, Wardo. Sean's friend from grad school is getting married and the bachelor party was tonight. Silicon implants, limo with a pole, vomiting in alleys, the whole nine yards."

fill: the beatings will continue until morale improves, 2b/3

"He did to get Dustin to stop calling," Chris says with a grin. "Never thought I would appreciate a Mark-Dustin emergency—"

"Beer, Hughes. " Mark calls out, only a her empty grasping hand visible over the back of the sofa. Tim Gunn, in glorious 1080p, is doing impressive eyebrow gymnastics as a brunette is trying to justify the pink and yellow fungal growth on her black minidress. Eduardo and Chris trade eye rolls. Chris gives Eduardo one last pat as he calls back, "No alcohol, Zuckerberg. You can't drink and take Midol. One day, your liver will thank me."

Eduardo moves to put away the groceries as Chris takes the takeout bag to the sofa.

"You can't depend on scientists growing you a new one in ten years, or your brothers as organ donors," Chris lectures as he hands a skeptical Mark the hot mug, "Ginger tea."

Mark shifts up, one hand hugging her hot water bottle, and takes mug with the other. She stares into the mug derisively, "This looks like cat piss."

Chris glares Mark down, "Drink it."

"Coffee?" Mark asks hopefully.

"No," Eduardo says as he walks over with napkins, flatware, and the tub of vanilla bean ice cream. He leans down to give Mark a quick kiss before quietly telling her, "I liked that bra."

But not quietly enough as Dustin jumps up from his seat, cheetos flying everywhere, and try awkwardly free himself from the aforementioned undergarment while yelling, "EWWWW, you said this was new. Did you disgusting things to each other in this? Ooh em gee, Chrisssssss, help me, help me."

Chris sighs as he helps Dustin unhook the bra as Mark digs into her ice cream. She waits until Dustin is back in the arm chair, with his old stained t-shirt proclaimed "Resistance is Futile", before she nonchalantly says, "Yes, and we did it in that arm chair."

"Aaargh, " Dustin yells as he jumps up again. Eduardo goes beet red. Mark smiles around the spoon in her mouth. Chris sighs and drags Dustin onto the floor, "Grow up. I'm sure this whole house is tainted."

"Oh god," Eduardo groans as he sinks down into the couch, hiding his heated face behind his hands. But Mark just confirms with small smile, "Twice over."

"TMI, " Chris says with a laugh, impressed, though he doesn't try to sit on the arm chair either. Dustin eyes the coffee table ladened with food, weighing the urges of his insatiable appetite and his delicate sensibilities.

Eduardo thinks for a second that it is just too bad humans cannot die from humiliation, but is distracted by Mark's icy cold feet in his lap. Eduardo drops his hand from his still hot face to give Mark a dirty look. She gives him all together different dirty look back.

"Dudes, no." Dustin warns from the floor as he tucks into the Pad Thai—stomach wins, unsurprisingly—and Chris groans at the flatscreen. He points and says, "That is hideous. She looks like the floor of a public toilet. All that's missing is a couple used condoms."

"He should have listened to Tim," Mark says as she hands the ice cream to Chris and snatches the Pad Thai from Dustin. Eduardo slouch into the sofa and starts rubbing his thumb over the delicate bones in Mark's feet. He sneaks a glance at Mark, relaxed and yelling at Chris for denigrating pantsuits, and smiles.